Amen
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: The recluse. The fanatic. The one quick to see demons in every shadow. What drives her obsession? Oneshot.


"Our Father who art in heaven," they chanted, perfect rhythm rising and falling in waves down the line of children. "Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven."

Her eyes lingered on the far wall, where a stained glass window spattered the white space with colorful blotches. "Give us this day our daily bread." The man in the window looked so nice, holding the children. He was smiling. Wasn't that a good thing?

"And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us." Her gaze shifted to the man in the front row, smiling widely. His face smiled, but his eyes drilled into her. She faltered, dropping her eyes to the carpet. Her mouth hung open, unmoving, as the rest of the children continued what she had forgotten. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory forever and ever, amen."

Her hands trembled as she followed the children in a perfect little line past the pews, back into the Sunday School room. The teacher praised them all, adding three gold stars beside each of their names on the chart. They'd done very well, she said, the best recitation since last month. Esmerelda hardly heard her. She stared at her hands, still trembling. The teacher is holding her, asking if everything's alright. She nodded, mutely. Everything's alright, she's just been bad. She said nothing, though. She waited.

The children left, one by one. Their parents came to take them, smiling and hugging them. She turned away. She shouldn't envy them, that's sinful.

A hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up, forcing her hands to be still. It's the man in the front pew. Her teacher smiles. "She was wonderful today, Pastor, you must be so proud."

Esmerelda flinches, and recites in her head what her father replies. "Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, and I don't partake in such things." With a firm hand, he guides her out to the car. She sits in her seat and buckles the belt, willing herself to be calm. Maybe he didn't notice. She can always tell by how he drives the car. On good days, when she's done well, he takes his time about going home. When he knows, he pushes the speed limit. As soon as they are on the main street, she knows. He noticed.

The car stopped with a jerk. It was a nice house. The pastor of a nice church gets a nice house. She fumbled with her belt and hurried to get out of the car. He got out and rounded on her, gripping her shoulder. His fingers dug into her skin as he propeled her toward the door. He stopped to unlock it, then shoved her inside.

She tumbled in, barely registering the slamming door behind. She tried to scramble to her feet. A hand clutched her hair, yanking her up. She clamped her teeth together. She couldn't scream or cry, that always made it worse.

"Are you mocking me?" He seethed, shaking her like a rag doll. "Are you mocking God? You're a child of God and you can't even remember the most sacred passage in His Word!" He pulled his free hand back and whipped it forward. She couldn't help the cry that escaped her. His eyes flashed.

"And you dare defy me still." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "God, what wrong did I do? Why did You curse me with a daughter? Where is the son you promised me, and why did you take Rachel at this curse's birth?" He struck her again, eyes gleaming. "Spare the rod, spoil the child. If you won't learn your verses, I will not spare the rod."

He walked, his fingers still locked in her hair, and she stumbled forward, tears running down her cheeks. He shoved her to the ground in front of a worn picture of Jesus, his face stern and forbidding. She placed her hands on the ground, bowing her head so she couldn't see that face. The fingers yanked her head up. "Look at Him! Look at Him who you wronged! You're the reason He had to die, and you mocked Him!"

Tears streamed from her eyes and dripped from her chin, spattering the prickly brick beneath her knees. In her mind, she pictured her father, striding across the room to where he kept the punisher. He never let her see it, but she knew it by feel, touch, weight. His footsteps echoed as they returned, and he said, "Until you recite it perfectly."

No other warning. It crashed down on her back, tearing the fabric of her light blue dress. She almost collapsed, but she caught herself, returning shakily to her position. Opening her mouth, she cried, "Our Father, who art in heaven."

The lash tracked across the skin of her back, its rough splintered surface raising a welt. It used to tear her skin, but that was before the skin had toughened. His footsteps receded, and she breathed a sigh. Maybe he'd decided to forgive her today.

They returned, and a voice thundered, "Who said you could stop? Begin again!" A new object sliced across her back, parting skin and sending pain shooting up her back. She gasped. Metal?

"Our Father," She groaned, "Who art in heaven. Hallowed be Thy Name."

_Crack._

She sucked in a breath and channeled the pain into her voice. "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.

_Crack. Crack.ˆ_

"On Earth!" She wailed. "As it is in heaven! Give us this day—"

The next blow knocked her to the ground. She lay dazed, staring upside down at the disapproving gaze of the man in the picture.

"Continue!" Roared the voice, and she could not tell whether it came from her father or from the picture.

"Our…. Daily bread… forgive us our sins… as we forgive those…" She cringed as it came down on her stomach, driving the air from her lungs. She gulped air that wouldn't come, clutching her stomach pitifully. She could taste blood. As her breath came rushing in, she screamed, "Who sin against us, and lead us not into temptation—" It slammed into her ribs, and she felt a crack shudder through her body. Her vision was fading, and she rushed to finish.

"But deliver us from evil… for," her tongue was thick and heavy. Her lips were difficult to control, "Thine is the Kingdom, power, glory, forever and ever…" the force hit her skull, and she slipped into darkness.

………………………………………………………

"She'll be alright, Pastor." The voice sighed, clucking a tongue. "Can you believe what the world's come to, when villains grab children from their own yards and beat them? It's God's blessing you were there to stop him."

A deeper voice rumbled, "I didn't stop him soon enough. But it is for the Lord to avenge. He will find the fool."

A familiar beeping sound filled her ears, and a sterile smell invaded her nostrils. The hospital, she thought hazily.

"I'm afraid there's some damage, Pastor. The blow to her head caused a problem. I'd suggest enrolling her in physical and speech therapy as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"Well, her speech centers are damaged, and she's developed a tic."

"Ah. Well, we don't always know God's plan, but things will work out. She'll be a godly woman, I'll be sure of that."

"Of course you will, Pastor."

In the darkness of her mind, Esmerelda reached for the final word of the prayer.

_Amen._

…………………………………..

**Note:** A few things about this story. Firstly, I am a Christian. The man portrayed in this passage does not display Christian attributes at all, and this man twists scripture to suit his purposes despite the fact that he is a pastor. Sadly, this happens. Not in every church, but it does happen. Second, I've wanted, for a while, to come up with a story for the two most disliked characters in the movie Edward Scissorhands, one of them being the "Crazy Christian lady" who thinks Edward is a demon. Perhaps a reason behind her reclusive nature, stammering tic, and fanatic edge is because of an upbringing like this. Perhaps next time you see the movie, view her with a little more pity. Next up, the lady who tries to seduce Edward, as soon as I can remember her name.


End file.
